


Wolf Brother

by BlueEyedArcher



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Choking, Curses, Drugs, Dry Orgasm, Knotting, Leshens (The Witcher), M/M, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plants, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rescue, Vines, Wolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:21:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22206286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueEyedArcher/pseuds/BlueEyedArcher
Summary: Jaskier wanders off the path and gets lost and separated from Geralt. Hoping to find his Witcher again, he continues deeper into the forest, but quickly discovers he's being watched by something far older and more dangerous than his beloved Witcher.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 25
Kudos: 887





	Wolf Brother

**Author's Note:**

> This was a self indulgent piece I wrote, not beta read and I did it all on my phone. If there are errors, please forgive me. I hope it sounds good still.

“O’ valley of plenty~” Jaskier strummed the notes on his lute, barely offering a moment’s awareness to the road as his feet guided him on autopilot. He reveled in the wondrous peace that accompanied him on this warm afternoon stroll. The forest was vibrating with energy, the wind dancing through the leaves of the trees and the heat of the summer sun in Novigrad beating down, the rays shattered through the thicker canopy above, broken fractals of light beaming down upon him in jagged patches across the grassy earth. The soft scent of damp soil and the babbling brook that cut across the path were intoxicating for his muse.

Don’t get him wrong, he very much enjoyed the action and adventure that entailed traveling with a witcher, but Jaskier was content with the moments between where he could settle his nerves and enjoy the flourishing life around him that did not want to kill him. It was a relief, a therapeutic pause between contracts on Striga and Ghouls lurking along the countryside.

His nimble fingers picked the strings with talented ease, drawing up a new melody as he listened to the whispers of the forest as the canopy blotted out the stray shards of sunlight. A cool chill ghosted against the back of his neck, sending soft shivers across his skin in a rippling of gooseflesh. His gaze lifted long enough to cross the spots of elevated rocks in the water, avoiding getting soaked. Dainty feet moving with all the grace dredged up from his years wooing the courts. He hummed the tune in his throat, carrying it on in different strokes before turning to glance back at his companion.

“What do you think of this, Geralt?” He called, twisting around as he strummed the notes, expecting to find the overly grumpy witcher still lumbering along on Roach’s back as per usual. Instead, he was met with an empty forest and a nonexistent path beneath his feet. It was worn by the routine movement of deer trailing through the foliage but no man had traveled these narrow shortcuts and Jaskier suddenly felt a swell of dread seep into his stomach. 

He couldn’t recall when he last saw Geralt or heard Roach neighing at his back with huffs and snorts as the witcher stroked her neck. They had been walking in this forest for some time and Jaskier had lost track of the hours as they inched by. The only evidence was the desperate ache in the soles of his feet from the uneven ground.

“Geralt?” Jaskier twisted again, his eyes scanning the thick forest. The landscape which had been so warm and welcoming had drastically shifted. The trees seemed to cluster around him like sentinels, obscuring his view and herding him along the wrong path. The grass seemed taller, brushing against his knees as the canopy shielded the floor from any light at all. The warm shards that had lit his way were absent now, a swell of shadows dusted the woods like a miasma, rolling across it in a shroud. The low rumble that filtered from the brush nearby was familiar but not in the way that usually made him bubbly and excited. A white wolf emerged and it wasn’t the one he merrily traipsed around after.

Jaskier adjusted his lute, slipping it off his shoulder to use as a guard against the beast. He slowly stepped back, reminded by the low growl of Geralt’s voice in his ear many months ago, about not turning his back to wolves. It was a lesson Jaskier wasn’t eager to repeat but the wolves apparently didn’t receive the memo as another snarl ripped across the air behind him. He turned, a yelp of surprise leaving his throat as a second larger wolf, this one a deep grey, lunged at him from the brush. Jaskier had enough sense to jolt back, stumbling over his own two feet. He managed to catch himself before he fell, one hand bracing a tree trunk as he corrected his stance. The tree he was leaned against shuddered and groaned like a great beast, ushering a scream from Jaskier’s lips.

All logic and reason fled him in that moment as he turned on his heel and darted down away from the wolves towards what he assumed was a clearing up ahead. His feet pounded the earth with the wolves close on his heels, their teeth snapping at his back and ankles, low snarls and growls ripping through the air and sending jolts of primal fear rocketing up his spine. He leap over a fallen trunk ahead, one hand pressed to the rough bark as he vaulted his weight over it with a small shock of satisfaction and pride that was quickly squashed when the supposed clearing he spotted fell out beneath him. He managed to throw himself over a hillside that fell away to exposed tree roots. He tumbled down it with a shout before landing in a heap at the bottom. 

A pained whimper filtered out of him, mingling with the triumphant howls of the wolves perched above, gazing down at him with predatory amusement. Something unnaturally human in their actions as they stalked the ledge with approval. Jaskier rolled over to try and clamber back up to his feet but paused when the earth quaked beneath him. He felt something tighten around his ankles, pinning them in place. The soil shifted at his feet, gravel digging into his knees and shins, tearing at the fabric of his trousers. His eyes widened as he looked around and those soft blue orbs fell on the dreaded shadow that loomed over him. The dark fog was accompanied by a storm of crows flying around them. 

The bard managed to lift his hands in time to protect his face as beaks and talons glanced across his skin, further tearing at his clothing and leaving small cuts and streaks of crimson in their tracks. He hissed through his teeth and gasped as the Lord that ruled this wood materialized before him. 

A massive being made of wood and animal bones cobbled together into a humanoid creature. A spirit of shadows and feathers, draped in the vibrant greenery of moss and vines that gave the scant impression of tribal clothing. Jaskier hadn’t the time to even shout for help as the eerie eyeless head cocked to the side, the impressively large rack of antlers rattled with the vines that hung from them, braided in feathers and smaller bones like macabre decor. Its long claws reached out, curling the tip of one long index finger beneath the bard’s jaw. Before he even realized it, Jaskier could feel something crawling up between his knees and wrapping around his hips.

He didn’t dare look, terrified that the sharp edge of the Leshen’s claws would slice his throat open like a gutted fish. He squeezed his eyes shut as the path of what he assumed were vines slithered up under his clothes and caressed his body. A firmer touch pressed against his lower back before his body was forced to obey the Leshen’s will like some sort of puppetry. He was bent over on all fours, roots springing forth from the earth to encircle his wrists and drag them high above his head. His yelp of surprise was silenced by another vine curling around his neck, applying a tender pressure, not enough to suffocate him but enough to stall any attempts at screaming for help. It was a silent warning from the ancient being, one that a very terrified Jaskier was intent on obeying. 

He whimpered as the fabric was torn away by wandering claws, snagging at the expensive silk of his clothes and exposing his sweat dampened and bloodied body to the cooler air around them. The pleasant gust from earlier had become frigid against Jaskier’s elevated temperature. He shivered, made a useless attempt to see what the Leshen was doing but only succeeded in nearly gagging himself as the vine pressed against his adam’s apple and squeezed in another quiet warning.

There was a hiss of dark vapors around him before he was greeted by the same two snarling wolves just barely in his view, albeit fleeting as they circled him like prey. Jaskier squirmed as the roots and vines further encircled his limbs before adjusting his posture. His legs were spread further apart with a chaste movement, sending Jaskier into a fright that the leshen was trying to rip him in half. But its roots stopped while it was still comfortable for the bard, the cold gust of air tucked against his very vulnerable and exposed nether region. He whimpered when warm breath rolled against the dip of his back before he was greeted by the wet tongue of one of the gigantic wolves.

The wolf whined after a moment, drawing away from Jaskier's back. He caught a glimpse of the grey one lying in the grass patiently waiting for its companion. Jaskier sucked in a nervous breath and squirmed a bit but the trail of sharp claws at his back were enough to make him still again. Vines slithered up between his legs and groped at his ass, a curl of surprisingly warm and soft against his skin before that softness turned slippery, secreting an oil of some kind from its leaves. It pressed the knotted tip of the vine against Jaskier's entrance, thoroughly coating the area in that same bitter scented oil before pushing inside. 

Jaskier gasped sharply, jolting his hips forward to avoid the vine but it was futile as it curled against his velvety inner walls and stroked him with all the tenderness of a lover. He could feel the cooler temperature of the oil as it was generously applied inside him. Jaskier pleaded to whatever God was listening that it wasn't potentially toxic. His desperate fears and mumbled prayers stuttered out when the vine found a particularly pleasant spot that Jaskier was far too aware of was his hot button and it had him mewling with embarrassed arousal.

It probed around a few more times while a second vine branched off of the busy cluster at his hips and curled a firm hold around the base of his cock. Jaskier whined when a smaller appendage slipped inside his slit and properly blocked up his leaking cock, leaving the bard both frightened and flustered by the refusal. Fear only further feeding into his arousal which, for the moment, made sense why he was so drawn to the big scary Witcher.

Awkward self discovery aside, Jaskier was having some very questionable conflicting feelings about this whole ordeal as the vine inside his ass was joined by a second and then a third. They braided themselves around one another, using their combined size to stretch him out as they thrusted gently in and out of his body, spreading more and more of that oil until every movement was a wet squelch inside of him that left the bard feeling all kinds of warm and pleasantly tingly. The painful ache of a denied release was nearly forgotten background noise as he shook his hips and rocked into the motions. 

His head felt all foggy and light as the clearing they were in became shrouded in a smoky haze. Jaskier marveled in the enchanting colors that became so vibrant in his vision, the bright red and glowing whites of mushrooms growing around the edges of the clearing. The pops of purples, blues and vivid greens of flowers and moss that he hadn't noticed earlier in his fearful state. Even the soft whispered melodies that danced through the trees, singing a siren song in his ears as his body hummed with a new kind of sensation. He felt so warm and fluttery inside, easing back into a melted puddle of contentment. The dizzying shifting of the land did little to raise distress as the vines worked him through a surprisingly intense dry orgasm that rattled through his whole body. 

Jaskier stifled a cry as they stroked him long after the climax. His body vibrated with tightly wound energy, pulsating with pleasure that didn't seem to reach an end. It was a mind numbing experience that left him pliant beneath the Leshen's touch. 

The sharp nails of its claws gently outlined the length of his spine where Jaskier arched into the plants. Outlining the curve of his slender figure, so dainty and almost feminine with carefully concealed musculature. A healthy human specimen, one of which rarely ventured into the Lord's wood. Not unlike the filthy gruff trappers or the violently drunk warriors that scream and holler, attacking the beasts that call this place home. The Leshen had been watching him since he stepped into the forest, heard his songs and observed at the carefree non-violent manner in which the bard conducted himself. It was pleasing to the ancient one and to his humble servants who craved a taste of the outside world again. 

At the Leshen's beckoning call, a harsh crack of wood like a tree breaking in a storm, the largest of the wolves approached. Its massive white body could easily crush Jaskier were it not careful but for all its size, it was graceful and sure footed in its approach. The wolf growled into Jaskier's back, giving another warm lick along the dip of his spine right above the cleft of his ass. The Leshen withdrew the vines from inside Jaskier, causing the bard to whine helplessly at the empty sensation inside him.

The wolf huffed, a sound that could almost be taken for a rumbling laugh as it mounted the bard carefully. Its hips lined up with ease before prodding the tip of it's own sizable arousal against Jaskier's entrance. It pushed in with ease after all of the careful preparation done by its master. Jaskier jolted with a strangled cry of surprise as his walls were spread by the thrusting cock inside him. It felt strangely shaped but still so pleasantly large. It was hot, squeezed between his oil slick walls and the steady hard pace had the bard panting into the mossy earth. He whined and rocked his hips back into the pleasant pace and was greeted with the throbbing bulge at the base of the beast. That which the wolf promptly pushed inside of the bard. There was a short choked off cry as it forced his walls to stretch further, pinpricks of pain which were numbed over by that smoky haze tickling at his mind, as the beast's knot popped inside him and the hot seed quickly followed, spilling into him like a well fucked whore.

Jaskier squirmed, his inner muscles clenching around the wolf, tightening and quivering as the beast rocked against him. The bulge of its knot rubbing up against one of those special spots and driving the bard over a second time. Jaskier's thoughts were shattered by the exhaustive fight against the haze that clouded his mind as he surrendered to this whole ordeal. He closed his eyes and savored the nip of teeth at the back of his neck and the warm breath that mussed up his hair into further disarray. He felt the wolf move against his back, the warm bed of fur prickling across sweat soaked skin. Jaskier shivered when it drew back, aided by the startling pop of the knot pulling out. Jaskier groaned and slumped against the ground. The only thing keeping him in some semblance of order were the roots that were firmly wrapped around him.

He was only mildly prepared for whatever else the Leshen planned to subject him to but that worry was stolen by a pained yelp. He forced his eyes back open, fearing the pull of exhaustion when something was amiss. He twisted his head around as much as the tight choking vines would allow and heard the hollow infuriated groan of the Leshen. A crossbow bolt lodged into its shoulder and a blur of white and black as someone chased it around the clearing with snarled wolfish words.

"Come here you piece of shit!" The Witcher growled, a flash of flames erupting from his fingertips as the Leshen screeched and disappeared into a flurry of crows. It was little problem for the Witcher as he tracked the beast's intentions while dodging the two wolves that attacked him.

Jaskier closed his eyes, only for an instant he swore but when he opened them again, he saw the body of a man draped in white wolf fur lying beside him. It's side split wide open with a blade, cutting through the tribal markings of a wolf's head etched into its scarred and battle worn body. Further away, Jaskier watched the Leshen fall beneath the Witcher's blade. He blinked furiously, tears welling up in his eyes as he struggled to focus. He squeezed them shut and let out a shuddering breath of relief.

He heard Geralt approach, heard the concern wrapped up in his voice, the desperation as he called the bard's name. "Jaskier? Jaskier can you hear me?"

He gave a sound of acknowledgement, a raw croaked out noise but it was enough for Geralt to understand. "It's going to be alright now. I'm going to get you out of here." Fingers gently brushed through his hair in a brief show of sympathy and reassurance as Geralt added. "You're safe now."

  
  
  
  


Jaskier couldn't remember falling asleep or even if he really dreamed at all during it. When he woke up, he was in a bed with an impossibly soft mattress beneath him and only a small candle lit to offer light in the darkened room. His head pounded as if he'd drank a whole cask of spirits the night before and his throat burned, raw and painful to swallow. That didn't even contend with the level of pain he was feeling now in his lower extremities. As he slowly came to consciousness, he decided to get a better look at himself. He dragged himself upright and was genuinely surprised to see he was clean and dressed. A pair of dark earthen trousers and a white cotton shirt fit snug to his body, his hair still mildly damp from what he assumed was a bath.

He shoved the blanket haphazardly hanging over him, aside and examined the massive dark bruises left behind from the Leshen's roots. They encircled his ankles and wrists and dotted up along his thighs, hips and back in large angry looking welts. He brushed a finger over one bruise on his wrist and found a familiar oily substance that he recognized as a common salve Geralt often used for wounds.

Jaskier recalled the little snippets he managed to catch of the fight between the Witcher and the lecherous Leshen. Not all of it made sense in his head though. There were people there that he didn't remember being there before like the warrior that lie dead on the ground. _Did Geralt have help?_ But that would be absurd. The Witcher hunted alone and barely tolerated Jaskier's "assistance" on the job. He frowned in further confusion until the door to the small room opened, causing the bard to jolt out of his thoughts and press back into the corner wall.

He relaxed when he glimpsed those warm golden inhuman eyes, eerie as they were even now glowing in the darkness like some feral beast. But Geralt wasn't just any beast and Jaskier relished in the safety the Witcher's presence ushered. He watched quietly as he approached the bed with a twitch of his lips into a small smile, a faint little presence that was otherwise clouded with conflicting concern and relief. 

"Good, you're awake. How are you feeling Jaskier?" The way he said those words eased any lingering fears or doubts in Jaskier's heart. He blinked up at the man as he approached with swift feline grace that would put even the proudest stray to shame. "Here, I brought you some dinner." Geralt added, holding out a plate of hot food and a tankard filled to the brim. Jaskier accepted the plate with shaky hands and rested it in his lap. The tankard was left on the nightstand beside the bed, well within the bard's reach.

Geralt retreated to the only other seat in the room, a chair by the adjacent wall which he dragged over to sit next to the bed to watch over Jaskier with a studious gaze. "Jaskier?" Geralt tried again, watching the bard closely for his response. 

Jaskier tilted his head up to address the Witcher as he picked around idly with his fork across the plate. Geralt frowned, brows creased with further worry at the continued silence from the bard. "You alright?"

Jaskier paused, averted his gaze from the man and stared down at his plate. His appetite was lacking, despite having not eaten in probably a whole day. It was hard not to feel disgusted at himself for how the incident played out and even more repulsed at how he felt about it as it was happening. 

"I don't know." He finally mumbled out, a hoarse rasp of sound that was broken and painful in his throat. He reached up to touch the raised welts and deep bruising there from the vines. "What happened Geralt?"

Geralt dragged out a heavy sigh, scrubbing his hand over his face in pained contemplation. After a few minutes of silent indecision and Jaskier having fully given up on his plate of food to instead listen to the Witcher's account.

With a heavy exhale, Geralt began. "You were taken by a very powerful and very old Leshen." He paused but Jaskier's raised brow only urged him to elaborate more. "It was abnormal as far as Leshen's go but rumours from a nearby village is what tipped me off about it's strange habits. I didn't believe it myself until it isolated you from me." He added. 

"Isolated?" Jaskier croaked.

"The fog in the woods." Geralt explained. "It acts like a drug to manipulate your mind. It's of a magical source so it didn't affect me but it worked on you. The Leshen uses it to find _companionship._ "

"What?" Jaskier blanched in confusion.

"That's why it's an anomaly of its kind. It lures choice targets into the woods and keeps them like pets. It plays with them and if it really likes them, then it turns them into its servants. Remember the wolves?"

The sudden rush of heat on Jaskier's face was a sure sign that, yes. He remembers the wolves. He shuddered with the residual feeling of teeth on the back of his neck and a warm tongue against his spine. He averted his gaze from the Witcher to stare at the bed instead.

Geralt's voice softened as he carried on. "The wolves were a pair of brothers that had been taken many many years ago by the Leshen. It made them immortal and turned them into loyal servants in the form of wolves. They were cursed to servitude and the Leshen was intent on doing the same to you."

Jaskier shook his head in disbelief, raising a hand to cover his face as he released a shuddering breath. He turned away from Geralt when a broken sound formed in his throat. The Witcher placed a gentle but firm hand on Jaskier's shoulder and rubbed slow circles across his back as the bard curled in on himself. His meal forgotten and the soreness of his injuries ignored as a sob was ripped from his throat. The sinking weight of guilt that coiled inside him was a raging storm that came without warning.

"I'm sorry Jaskier." Geralt sighed heavily. "I should have never taken that route in the forest and heeded the rumors." After a moment, Geralt shifted from the chair to sitting on the edge of the bed as he pulled the bard into a strong embrace, tucking his arms around Jaskier as his stifled sobs turned into full on wails. His face burrowed into the crook of Geralt's neck to quiet him some but it was inevitable. He didn't chastise the bard for his weakness, just quietly accepted his desperation and smoothed his hands over his back and up into his hair in gentle petting motions. Only softly hushing him when he started to hiccup and struggle for breath.

  
  


It was a long few hours but Geralt managed to get Jaskier to calm down and eat something. After that, the bard made a quiet request that pulled the Witcher into bed with him. Both of them settled down for the night, Geralt's arms firmly wrapped around his bard while Jaskier tucked up close, folded in the sanctuary that was his savior. His Witcher.


End file.
